


Reversal of Fortune

by Sarea Okelani (sarea)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Time Turner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-31
Updated: 2004-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarea/pseuds/Sarea%20Okelani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Narcissa has the opportunity to change her husband's future by altering their past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reversal of Fortune

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Toujours Pur's Time Turner fan fiction contest. I know Draco counts as a Black, but I wanted to step outside my comfort zone and play with a couple of other characters for a bit.

Reversal of Fortune  
by Sarea Okelani

~.~

Narcissa woke from a strange and disturbing dream. She blinked a few times, trying to recall details, but the images fled as they always did with the first light of morning. Left with a sense of general unease, she decided the dream was not worth remembering.

Reaching out, she felt for Lucius's presence beside her in the bed, but her hand encountered nothing but cold bed sheets. Rousing, she turned and saw that his side of the bed was perfectly made. Lucius was a particular man, but not quite _that_ particular, so Narcissa could only assume he hadn't come home. Frowning, she thought to herself that his job was entirely too time consuming. Not to mention dangerous.

She had just finished breakfast in the conservatory when a house-elf came in to inform her she had a Floo call from Draco. Probably needed money again. Or chocolate. Some said she spoiled him, but he was her only son -- wasn't that her prerogative?

"Good morning, Mother," Draco greeted as soon as she entered the room.

Narcissa settled herself comfortably into a large armchair by the fireplace. "Hello, darling," she replied. "Are you out of pocket money?"

"Yes, I need more. Also, can I have a friend stay with us for a couple of weeks in the summer?"

Narcissa's delicate eyebrows rose as she tried to determine what Draco was really trying to say. "And is this a friend a male or a female?"

"_Mother_," he whined. When she only looked at him pointedly he acquiesced sullenly. "Female."

"Who is it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it does, if she's to be staying at the Manor. As your mother, I have to ensure that anyone you choose to take up with is from a good family and deserving of my one and only son."

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's Pansy Parkinson."

"I didn't know you were so interested in her," Narcissa said mildly.

"She's all right," Draco mumbled.

"Well, it will please your father. He's been wanting you to ingratiate yourself with the Parkinsons--"

"Yes, I know," Draco interrupted. "So it's all right, then?"

Narcissa nodded.

"Great," Draco muttered.

"How are things otherwise?"

"Fine." Draco looked tight-lipped and unhappy, which probably meant he'd lost a Quidditch game or hadn't scored as high on an exam as he'd have liked. Or, even more likely, he'd had another altercation with that Potter boy. Her suspicions were confirmed when he went on to gripe, "... if only the professors around here wouldn't play favorites with the Gryffindors."

"Have you been keeping up your studies for the N.E.W.T.s?"

"Mother, I have to go. I have detention," Draco said glumly.

"What? But you're a prefect!"

"Yes, but Weasley is Head Boy and he has it in for me."

"Don't tell your father," Narcissa advised. "He has enough on his mind. I'll send some money."

Draco nodded. "I'll owl you this week." He disconnected.

Narcissa was about to get up when another face appeared in the fireplace -- one she didn't recognize. "This is the Malfoy residence. May I help you?" she asked.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I am Flooing on behalf of the Ministry of Magic. I'm sorry to inform you that I have some bad news."

~.~

_How could this have happened?_

It didn't seem possible. She had led a charmed life. Anyone would have said so. She was beautiful and wealthy, with a handsome husband and a son any woman would be proud of. She was a _Malfoy_, part of an ancient line of wizards that stretched back to the beginning of time -- or at least, time that mattered. She was also a Black by birth, which itself boasted an impeccable lineage. She had lived with her dual heritages -- by birth and by marriage -- all of her life. They had brought with them feelings of invincibility, of immunity. Would that prove to be nothing more than smoke and mirrors? Would these proud families now be tainted by everything that had happened?

It was bad enough that her sister had been involved, but Narcissa was not entirely surprised. Bellatrix had determined her own path early on in life.

But Lucius...

She'd always known it might one day come to this. One couldn't be in the service of the Dark Lord and not understand that certain sacrifices were going to be made. Fortune, yes. Blood, yes. Independence, yes. But reputation, honor, dignity ... the loss of those were perhaps hardest to bear.

Narcissa was led into a small, dank room. She eyed the steel chair that was bolted to the floor with distaste, but there was nowhere else to sit, and she knew she wouldn't be able to remain standing for the entire duration. They had taken her wand from her when she'd arrived, so there was no way to even make it slightly more pleasant or comfortable for herself.

The two Aurors who had accompanied her inside now stood silently on either ends of the room, staring straight ahead.

Narcissa kept her expression impassive. Impassivity was the only thing that was getting her through this. Her innate grace had carried her through many situations, and this would be no different. She couldn't allow the facade to crack; if she did, if she let those walls crumble, it would be difficult to build them again, and she could not afford to let that happen. Lucius needed her. He would no doubt try and convey something for her to do, something the Aurors wouldn't understand, but _she_ would. He'd tell her what course of action to take, and together, they would get him out of this terrible place and back home where he belonged. And they would avenge what had been done to him.

It was very, very hard to keep her mien cool when the door opened and her husband walked in, followed by a prison warden. She nearly didn't recognize him. It was more than just the prison robes he wore or the chains that bound his wrists and ankles together, or even the heavy stubble that adorned his jaw and the drabness of his once-shining hair. It was the utter dejection and hopelessness she read in his face that was unfamiliar. She couldn't remember Lucius ever looking like that.

She tried not to feel scared, but it was useless. She was frightened by what she saw, what he was telling her without words.

Lucius sat down across from her. "Hello, darling," he said, and the voice was achingly familiar. That, at least, was the same. They hadn't taken that from him.

"Hello, my love," she replied, and reached out to touch his hand. She was immediately repelled by some unseen force, making her cry out as she snatched her hand back and cradled it.

"Damn it, didn't you warn her?" Lucius roared, glaring at the other occupants of the room, who shifted uncomfortably.

"They did, I just forgot," Narcissa lied. She knew Lucius felt helpless, and he hated it. He couldn't protect her as he was, so it was up to her to protect him, even if it was just a small lie so he wouldn't feel powerless. She clasped her hands to occupy them, and so that they wouldn't betray tremors. It helped her, and her calm demeanor would allow him to see that she was ready, willing, and capable of doing anything he asked of her.

Lucius's hands were clenched into fists, and it seemed to take all his control to unclench them, but he did. He looked at her with those wintry eyes of his, and everything suddenly disappeared -- the ground under their feet, the Aurors at their posts, the table between them. It was just Lucius and Narcissa, a husband and his wife, and for one moment Narcissa could almost believe that nothing had changed, their lives would continue as they always had -- the perfect golden couple with their perfect golden child.

Then one of the Aurors cleared his throat, and the moment was broken. Reality settled in like dust from a Gringotts vault.

"What would you like me to do with the household accounts?" Narcissa asked, knowing Lucius would understand her true question. Their finances were like a well-oiled machine; they would not be disrupted for some time yet.

Lucius took his time to respond. "Nothing," he finally said, and his voice was gentle.

"Nothing?" Narcissa repeated. "There must be something. Should I contact Brooks &amp; Meyer?" She named their solicitors.

"No. I don't want you to do anything. Nothing needs to be done."

Narcissa fought the rising tide of panic that threatened to burst out of her chest, burst her composure. "Lucius--"

"You are so beautiful," he said, as if she weren't frantically trying to get him to help her save his life. "I've always thought so. From the first moment I saw you."

Narcissa made a sound that was almost like a sob. He would never say these things in front of the Aurors unless he were saying his goodbyes -- unless he thought he would never have the chance to say them to her again. He had never been one for public demonstration. Why was he doing this? Why was he giving up so easily? Surely there was _something_ that could be done to save him. And by association, to save her. "Please," she pleaded.

"I never wanted your life to be like this," he said in the same gentle tone. "I swore I would treat you like a queen."

"You did!" Narcissa burst out. "You have! Now stop talking like this. I won't accept it, Lucius."

"I told you I would dress you in the finest clothes, adorn you with priceless jewelry. Your life would be a fairy tale, and I would be your prince. But that's not how it's been."

"You're wrong," Narcissa said firmly, tears glistening in her eyes, but she wouldn't allow them to fall.

Lucius tilted his head and regarded her, seemingly calm in the acceptance of his fate. "I've always meant to ask you this question, but I never could before, too afraid of the answer. Unlike me, isn't it?"

"What is it?" Narcissa's voice was unlike her usual measured tones; her throat was too thick.

"What would you change, if you could?"

"Nothing," she answered automatically. The truth was, there were many little things over the course of her life that she had wanted to change, but she _had_ changed them. Since she'd been sixteen and had been bequeathed with a Time Turner by her Great Aunt Rose Black, she'd used it fairly liberally to manufacture outcomes she liked. She'd never used it on anything big, just little things here and there, understanding that the intricacies of time were best untampered with. But the things she'd done had been fairly insignificant. Mostly.

"Not even meeting me? Marrying me?"

"Especially not that," Narcissa said. "Why would you ask such a thing?" Suddenly she had a terrible thought. "Do you ... do you regret marrying me?"

"Sometimes," Lucius admitted baldly.

Narcissa was so tense she thought she might break into a thousand pieces if someone were to touch her. "Oh?" she asked calmly, though she wanted to tear at him with her hands, to make him feel even one iota of the pain that he was making her feel right now.

"Yes, because then I wouldn't have ruined your life."

"We both know that's not true," Narcissa said, some of her tension releasing at his words. "We both know it was my family that..." She swallowed. It had been Bellatrix who had approached Lucius with an offer from the Dark Lord. At the time, Lucius had wanted to impress Narcissa, had thought that this higher calling, joining her sister and Voldemort on a pureblood crusade would finally sway her to his side.

Lucius didn't know how much she'd been there all along. Narcissa had fallen in love with him when she was sixteen years old, and from that moment she had done everything in her power to make him hers. She was a Black daughter, and Black daughters got whatever they wanted. Lucius, one of the most sought-after boys in school, had wanted Narcissa because she was a challenge. She'd known what she had to do to win him. If not for that, if not for her, he might never have met Bellatrix -- or been compelled to accept her invitation to meet the Dark Lord.

"I know what to do," Narcissa said suddenly.

"No. Don't do anything," Lucius said sharply.

Narcissa's legs felt shaky as she stood. "I love you, Lucius," she said simply.

Lucius was now standing as well. "Narcissa," he said, but she ignored the warning in his voice.

"I'll be seeing you." She left as quickly as she could, knowing that only one course of action would right these wrongs.

She had to destroy the Time Turner, destroy it in the time before she'd used it to make Lucius fall in love with her.

~.~

She hadn't had cause to use the Time Turner for many years. Life had treated her well, and as she'd gotten older the little things didn't seem to matter as much anymore. Life was life, and she'd been content.

As a young girl, however, she hadn't been so willing to let things be. Youth had a way of making people think they could change the world, and Narcissa was no different. She just had the means to actually do it.

Shit e used it mostly for little things -- giving herself extra time to study for a class, selecting a different outfit to wear, ensuring she didn't get caught for staying up after hours. But the most significant thing she used it for was to make herself exist in two places at once -- where she was supposed to be, and where Lucius was. She'd had his class schedule memorized, and she used the knowledge to her advantage. Wherever he was, she endeavored to be, if only just to pass by him in the hallways. She wanted him to see her, to have her always on his mind. Narcissa knew she was beautiful, knew this would intrigue him, knew he would want to talk to her, because he was good looking and popular and anyone -- especially a female -- who didn't immediately fall at his feet was something he could not ignore.

This was how she had won him. She'd wanted him, had loved him, and so she had given herself to him -- all without his knowing.

But if she didn't do that ... if her younger self had no way of putting herself in his path ... he probably wouldn't have singled her out amongst the dozens of other girls who had vied for his attention. She would have been just another girl. And if they weren't involved, if he hadn't been trying to win her, his life could have gone in a very different direction.

Narcissa finally found the Time Turner in a hatbox on top of one of the closet shelves. It looked just as she remembered, after she wiped her tears away.

~.~

_Here_, she thought. _This will do_.

She'd taken her broom and Apparated to a location as close as she could get to Hogwarts, then flown from there. School was still in session, so she chose an out of the way edge of the Forbidden Forest to conduct her business. It was so densely wooded it was extremely unlikely to have been different twenty-five years ago, and would give her enough cover in case there were people about.

She didn't take the broom with her. It was unlikely she would ever see it again.

Taking a deep breath, Narcissa rotated the Time Turner the requisite number of turns.

The world spun.

~.~

She immediately knew it was different.

There was nothing outwardly to show that she had just traveled back more than twenty years in time, but she could tell things were not the same. Perhaps it was the smell of the trees, or the slight nip in the air. Perhaps the ground felt different under her feet. Whatever it was, it gave Narcissa the certainty that she was in the right place. In the right time.

Smoothing down her robes and checking to make sure her hair was in place, she walked through the woods the way she had come and eventually found her way to a clearing. In the distance, she could see the majestic sight of Hogwarts castle, and something fluttered in her stomach.

A younger, happier version of herself was out there. She remembered her sixth year at school being an enjoyable one, though nothing had been better than seventh -- most of that having to do with Lucius.

All she had to do was gain access to the sixth-year girls' dorm in Slytherin House, locate the Time Turner, and destroy it. But how to get in without being detected? She would worry about that when the problem presented itself, Narcissa decided. If she look composed enough and as though she belonged there, no one would ask any questions. She knew that from experience.

She began to make her way to the castle on foot, thinking absently that she would have brought a parasol if she'd known it was going to be this bright.

Narcissa tried not to think of the negative consequences of her actions. If she did, she wouldn't be able to bear it. She had to think of why she was doing this; why it was important to stop herself from using the Time Turner. She had to change what had brought Lucius to such an unworthy, ignoble end. She had to. She was the one responsible for it.

If she had calculated correctly, she should be some time in May, when Great Aunt Rose Black had died and left her niece the Time Turner. Narcissa hadn't begun to use it until her seventh year, when she had begun to pursue Lucius in earnest, and remembered exactly where she'd kept it.

As she got closer to the main part of the school grounds, she heard voices -- which came from one of the walled-off gardens, with large bushes that obscured much of the view. Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief and would have moved on, except the voices sounded familiar. She reached into one of the bushes and carefully parted the leaves so that she could see inside.

Her mind blanked when she saw herself, and Lucius, sitting on a bench. She was reading and Lucius was sprawled out lazily next to her, his long legs stretching out on the grass in front of her. Her own legs were demurely tucked to one side.

They were so _young_. Narcissa remembered that, at the time, she'd thought Lucius the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. Now, through the eyes of a woman, she saw that he'd been a boy, just a boy, possessing the cocky assuredness that came from being young, good-looking, and wealthy. That charm had used to render her tongue-tied and speechless, which she'd hidden behind a mask of cool disinterest -- but nothing could have been further from the truth.

She'd used the Time Turner quite a lot in her seventh year, making sure that she crossed paths with Lucius as often as possible without seeming suspicious. She always let him acknowledge her first, and on the days he didn't, she would go miserably on her way, wondering why he'd ignored her and becoming even more determined to encounter him the next day. Lucius had even remarked once how often they seemed to run into one another, but thankfully had never pursued it beyond that.

Now Narcissa inched closer so that she could hear her younger self converse with Lucius as a boy.

"That book can't possibly be more interesting than me," Lucius drawled, studying her with hooded eyes.

He was clearly trying to sound irresistible and charming, and though one day he would perfect those qualities, he hadn't quite mastered it yet. The Narcissa who had been married to him for over twenty years wanted to laugh and pet his head indulgently, but she knew her younger self was nowhere near so indifferent to his budding charms. The girl version of herself turned the page of her book as if she hadn't heard him, so engrossed was she in her reading, but the truth was she hadn't read a single word since he'd arrived.

"Some of us prefer to study, Malfoy," young Narcissa replied. "Not all of us enjoy being a useless layabout." She'd forgotten she used to call him by his surname just to annoy him. He'd told her to use his given name a dozen times, but while she allowed herself to think of him in private as 'Lucius,' she wanted him to keep trying.

"Then you haven't been doing it properly," said Lucius with a lazy grin.

In her hidden spot, Narcissa felt a pang in her heart as she realized that this might very well be one of the last encounters she'd have with Lucius. Without the Time Turner, she wouldn't be able to place herself in his path as often as she had, forcing him to notice her. He still might notice her, of course, but Lucius had been very popular amongst the female set, and without the constant reminder that Narcissa was there, he could easily be distracted by the charms of some other girl.

The knowledge that she was very possibly giving up her husband -- and therefore her son as well -- was like a lance through Narcissa's heart. For a moment she forgot why she was there, why she had gotten it into her head to do this at all. And then the vision of Lucius, haggard and beaten in Azkaban, flashed before her eyes, and she increased her resolve. She would do it because she loved him, loved him more than anything, and always had. She would give up her happiness for his, because she could not bear the idea of her beautiful, charming, talented husband in prison, or worse, being given the Dementor's Kiss.

She knew she ought to turn away now, leave before her determination could desert her again, but she wanted to stay one more minute, to capture the moment in her memory forever -- or for as long as she had it. The way the grass smelled, the way the sun felt, the way Lucius was looking at her younger self...

Which she realized she'd never seen before.

As a girl she had been preoccupied with keeping Lucius interested. That meant staying aloof, even as she forced herself into his periphery. It meant she rarely looked directly at him, pretending to find her book, her quill, the professor, anything else, more interesting than he. But the older Narcissa did not have such limitations, and she looked her fill.

The soft intensity of his gaze was unmistakable as he looked upon the girl seated next to him, sunlight streaming through her golden hair. His lips parted as he studied her profile, his breathing coming a bit faster, licking his lips when they became dry. He seemed to want to say something several times, but the words never left his mouth. The younger Narcissa was oblivious to all this, but the older Narcissa was not. _Why, he's nervous_, she thought in surprise. She never would have guessed. Lucius had always seemed so self-possessed, so sure in everything he did. Watching his awkwardness now as he attempted to talk to her brought out feelings of tenderness toward the boy, and she found herself wishing she hadn't been so stubbornly standoffish. _But that's how you won him_, she reminded herself, and knew it was true.

After another moment Lucius seemed to get up the courage to say something again, which the young Narcissa replied to in a dismissive manner. Did either of them notice that she never once made to get up and walk away?

Narcissa left in the midst of their banter, though it was tempting to stay. She had to keep her focus on what she was required to do, or she would never be able to go through with it.

Because it was near summer (and more importantly, was actually a nice, sunny day), many students were outside. She would be surprised if there were many -- if any -- students in their dorms on a day like this. Though she was given a few curious looks, she acted as though she was supposed to be there, and no one questioned her, especially not when she headed toward the Headmaster's offices. Adults going to see school administration was not such an unusual occurrence, after all.

However, once she reached the Headmaster's offices, she kept going. The entrance to the dungeons was not too far, and she found herself outside the entrance to the dormitories without encountering any professors or the Slytherin Head of House, Professor Sandringham.

Narcissa's relief was short lived. Now that she was here, how was she to get in? She tried to remember the password from her sixth year, but they had changed quite frequently and she couldn't remember what it might be. After two wrong guesses the portrait began to look upon her with suspicion, and she knew she had to do something or it would alert the other portraits, which would get back to the Headmaster. The last thing Narcissa needed was to be caught.

"Excuse me," she said to the portrait, feigning consternation. "I seem to have forgotten the password that Professor Sandringham gave me. I'm here to speak with my niece," she lied smoothly.

"Need a password to get in," said the portrait, crossing his black-velvet-clad arms.

"Yes, I realize that," Narcissa said as patiently and kindly as she could. "However--"

"Can I help you?"

Narcissa turned and saw a boy of perhaps fourteen gazing at her with avid interest. His complexion was marred by acne, but Narcissa behaved as though he were the most dashing man she'd ever seen.

"Oh, I would be ever so grateful for you help," she said. "You see, I need to speak with my niece, but I'm afraid I've forgotten the password Professor Sandringham just gave me. I have a terrible memory..."

"Who's your niece?" the boy asked.

"Narcissa M--Black," she replied, holding her breath.

"Oh yes, you look very alike," said the boy. "It's no problem." He said the password and the portrait opened with a disapproving grunt.

"Thank you so much!" Narcissa said, then bade the boy farewell as she made her way to the sixth year girls' dormitory.

As she had suspected, no one was about -- at least none of the sixth-year girls were. She went directly to her old bed, wanting to be distracted by all the things that were so familiar to her, memories that ached to be explored, but she knew she didn't have time to dawdle. Anyone could come in, and she might lose her nerve.

Narcissa located the Time Turner quickly -- it was simply stuffed at the bottom of the trunk like some old trinket. She wouldn't begin to appreciate its uses until the following year.

She thought of all the years of love she would never have.

She thought of the first time she and Lucius had kissed, right in the garden where she'd just seen them, scant months later.

She thought of the first time they had made love -- which hadn't been until after they'd gotten married. She hadn't wanted to give in to him too early and make him lose interest.

She thought of carrying her baby boy in her womb for nine months, and holding him in her arms after he was born. Narcissa was not an especially spiritual woman, but she knew that some how, some way, no matter what she did now, Draco would still exist. He might look different, he might have a different name, but he would still be Draco. That belief did not stop the tears from sliding down her face, however.

She thought of the life Lucius would lead without her, the man he would become. Not dirty and rotting in a prison cell, waiting for execution, but full of life as he was meant to be. A leader, not a minion. Narcissa dropped the Time Turner she had found in the trunk to the floor. With surety, the heel of her boot came down hard, crushing it into hundreds of pieces.

And then she thought of nothing.

~.~

Narcissa woke from a strange and disturbing dream. She blinked a few times, trying to recall details, but the images fled as they always did with the first light of morning. Left with a sense of general unease, she decided the dream was not worth remembering.

Reaching out, she felt for Lucius's presence beside her in the bed, but her hand encountered nothing but cold bed sheets. Rousing, she turned and saw that his side of the bed was perfectly made. Lucius was a particular man, but not quite _that_ particular, so Narcissa could only assume he hadn't come home. Frowning, she thought to herself that his job was entirely too time consuming. Not to mention dangerous.

She had just finished breakfast in the conservatory when a house-elf came in to inform her she had a Floo call from Draco. Probably needed money again. Or chocolate. Some said she spoiled him, but he was her only son -- wasn't that her prerogative?

"Good morning, Mother," Draco greeted as soon as she entered the room.

Narcissa settled herself comfortably into a large armchair by the fireplace. "Hello, darling," she replied. "Are you out of pocket money?"

"No," Draco said, then paused. "Well, yes. But that's not why I'm Flooing."

"Oh?"

"I'd like to invite a friend to stay with us for a couple of weeks over the summer. Would that be all right?"

Narcissa's delicate eyebrows rose as she tried to determine what Draco was really trying to say. "And is this a friend a male or a female?"

"_Mum,_" he whined. When she only looked at him pointedly he acquiesced sullenly. "Female."

Narcissa sucked in a breath, though it wasn't exactly unexpected. It was high time, after all; Draco was seventeen years old. It just seemed that one moment she had been rocking her baby boy to sleep, and now he was asking to have his girlfriend stay over at the Manor. Time passed so quickly, and children grew up in the blink of an eye. Still, she was glad he finally liked someone enough to introduce to his parents. He was far too picky for his own good. "Who is it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it does, if she's to be staying at the Manor. As your mother, I have to ensure that anyone you choose to take up with is from a good family and deserving of my one and only son."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Please don't say anything like that around her. It would mortify me and probably scare her away. And I don't think I could forgive you for that."

Narcissa's eyebrows rose even higher. This sounded serious. "Well, don't keep me in suspense. Who is your paragon of virtue?"

"Ginny Weasley," he said.

"A Weasley?" Narcissa asked in surprise. "Well, she is from a good family. I hadn't realized their daughter was old enough to -- she _is_ old enough, isn't she?"

"What do you take me for?" Draco asked irritably. "She's a couple of years behind me in school. She's a Gryffindor prefect."

"A Gryffindor? However did you meet?"

"Do we have to go into this now, Mother?"

"Yes, if you want me to give you permission to let her stay here in the summer."

"I saw her at prefect meetings and thought she was..." He hesitated. "...thought she would be a good conversationalist." Narcissa had to try very hard not to roll her eyes. "And since, as Head Boy, I make up our patrol schedules..."

"You conveniently scheduled yours together. How Slytherin of you."

"I'm sure Professor Snape would be pleased to know it," Draco said. "But let's keep this between us."

"It sounds like something your father would do," Narcissa said wistfully. "You wouldn't believe some of the things he did to win me."

"Oh, yes, I would," said Draco. "Except this conversation is making me feel a bit queasy. Speaking of Dad, can we not tell him about Ginny just yet?"

"Whyever not? He would be very pleased, you know. He speaks very highly of Arthur Weasley--"

"Yes, I know he would be pleased," Draco said, "which is precisely why I don't want him to know. I'll never hear the end of it. So can I take this to mean yes? On both counts?"

Narcissa nodded. "Has she asked her parents yet?"

Draco shook his head. "There wouldn't have been any point if you had said no."

"We'll be glad to have her. If her parents have any concerns, just tell them to Floo or owl; I'll be happy to speak with them."

"Thanks, Mum."

"How are things otherwise?"

"Fine. I'm glad this is my last year. I won't have to deal with some of the idiots who run around this place pretending to be intelligent."

"Such as?"

"That Harry Potter kid. I know he saved the world and all that, Mum, but I don't think I've ever met anyone quite so belligerent. He has a serious problem with authority. I really hope Professor Dumbledore doesn't get it into his head to make Potter Head Boy next year, but all the professors seem to favor him for some reason. I just feel sorry for his fellow classmates."

"You would have been one of them, you know," Narcissa said, this time not able to hold back her smile. "If your father and I hadn't had to move up our wedding because we were suddenly expecting you."

"Oh look, someone wants to use the Floo next," Draco said hurriedly. "I have to go. Are you sure you can't get me my own private Floo point?"

"Good_bye_, Draco," Narcissa said pointedly. "I love you."

Her son sighed. "Love you." He disconnected.

Narcissa was about to get up when another face appeared in the fireplace -- one she didn't recognize. "This is the Malfoy residence. May I help you?" she asked.

"Oh! Yes. Mrs. Malfoy. I'm Shirley May ... it's my first day here. I didn't mean to just pop in on you like that..."

"It's all right," Narcissa replied mildly. "What can I help you with, Ms. May?"

"It's Mr. Malfoy -- I mean, the Minister of Magic, he -- that is --" Shirley seemed decidedly flustered, then looked over her shoulder. "Oh. Of course, sir. Yes, here you are."

Then Shirley disappeared from the fire and was replaced by her husband. He grinned. "Hello."

"New secretary?"

"New secretary," he confirmed.

"Honestly, Lucius, you go through them like Floo powder."

"I wouldn't have to if there was a competent one of them in the lot. But you see what they send me."

"Your side of the bed was cold this morning," she said in a reprimanding tone. "I missed you."

"Not nearly as much as I missed you," Lucius replied. "I spent the night on the sofa in the office. Damned uncomfortable."

Narcissa saw the dark circles under his eyes and felt a pang of sympathy. And something else she couldn't define. If she didn't know better, she would have said it was fear. But why should she have anything to fear? Except, perhaps, for Lucius's health. "You work too hard, darling," she said. "Why don't you try to come home for lunch? I'll have Cook prepare your favorites."

"If I can get the time off, you can be sure I won't be coming home for _lunch_," Lucius growled.

"Yes, well," Narcissa said primly, though she was secretly pleased. "Perhaps something else could be arranged."

"See to it, woman," Lucius replied, eyes gleaming. Then his expression changed, softened. "I thank Merlin for you every day, do you know that?" he said. "If it hadn't been for you ... I don't know where I'd be."

"I do. You'd still be Lucius Malfoy, one of the best men I've ever known."

Lucius shook his head. He seemed oddly emotional. "I don't know. I might have ... things might have been very different."

"No. You wouldn't have done it, Lucius." It was a conversation they'd had a few times before. Lucius had been approached days after he'd graduated Hogwarts by one of Voldemort's henchmen, Narcissa's own sister. It had sounded like a righteous cause and Lucius might have taken the man up on it, but the next day Narcissa had told him she was pregnant, and after that there was no room in their lives for anything but getting their family settled. They'd been young and their families hadn't exactly been pleased by the news of Narcissa expecting out of wedlock, so it'd been difficult for a time. Neither of them had ever regretted a day, but occasionally Lucius looked back to what might have been, and wondered if, without Narcissa and Draco, he might have made a choice that would have made him a Death Eater.

"I like to think I wouldn't have," Lucius said, "but we'll never know. It's been almost eighteen years since that day. I always picture my life forking at that point, and the paths led to such different lives."

"I don't think they would have been so different," Narcissa said. "We still would have had each other."

"Yes," Lucius said, taking a moment to come back from his inner reverie. He smiled and she felt her heart speed up, even after all these years. "You're the only constant I need in my life."

And though she was not as young as she used to be, Narcissa kneeled on the floor to give her husband a kiss.


End file.
